


The Kindest Most Generous Man

by AvenuePotter



Category: The Man in the High Castle (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:23:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24917536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvenuePotter/pseuds/AvenuePotter
Summary: As Frank Frink cleans up in the shower at Childan’s the morning after his night of rough sex with Sarah, he contemplates all that’s happened to him since Juliana left him. Again. His hate and anger blossoms - as does his regret - as he reflects upon the man he is becoming without her.
Relationships: Frank Frink/Sarah, Juliana Crain/Frank Frink
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Please note: This is based on an alternative history where racial slurs leftover from World War II are still intact. This fic reflects the universe it is set in.

_“You know, you have more in common with him than you think,” Sarah tells him as the Kempeitai officer walks away. “You both see me as a Pon.”_

_“Well, since you_ **are** _telling me what I think . . .” Frank replies snidely._

_“So tell me I’m wrong,” Sarah challenges. “Tell me the reason you wanted to do this alone wasn’t because you regret having sex with a filthy Pon.”_

No, that wasn’t it. Not exactly . . .

* * *

“I’m going to take a shower. Clean up,” Frank says, showing up at Childan’s the morning after he and Ed had helped the Resistance recover some explosive material from an abandoned bomb in some random basement.

“Where have you been?” Ed asks him.

“Stashing the explosive,” Frank answers.

“All night?” Ed asks. There’s a tell-tale look on his friend’s face and it dawns on him without him even saying a word - “You have GOT to be kidding me! You and that --”

Yes, Frank had spent the night with one of the members of the Resistance - Sarah - and quite aptly had woken up in a gutter that morning. He looks down and then away, feeling guilty as hell.

“We should not have done that, Frank. We should not have helped them.” Ed sounds like a scared little mouse. 

“Come on, tell me it didn’t feel good,” Frank says. His mind wanders a bit, remembering the sex he'd just engaged in. 

“It didn’t,” his friend answers, quite sure of himself. “We’re not like those people, Frank.”

“Yeah, well maybe we should be,” Frank replies. Perhaps they should both relish in defying the Japs like Sarah does, even though she's Japanese herself. Japanese and American. He heads towards the bathroom.

“Hey -” Ed tries to stop him.

“A little privacy,” Frank growls. “Please.” 

He closes the door on him.

* * *

Frank stands there naked, arms crossed, waiting for the shower to heat up. He’s dirty.

She had called him a pussy.

He had just saved her life.

_BANG bang bang bang. The Jap is dead. Frank continues to unload his gun. Click click click click click. He stands there shaking, staring down the barrel at the unmoving body of the Kempeitai officer that he’s just killed._

_Sarah’s the one who gently puts his arm back down, bringing him back to reality._

And she had been the one assigned to watch him at Gary’s place. The other members of the Resistance had been afraid Frank would go over the edge after his first kill - since it could more aptly be called an overkill - and didn’t want him to be alone.

He steps into the shower - it’s just about warm now - and lets the water drip down onto his face as he turns it towards the spigot like a sunflower looking for light.

_He finds his way to the sink at Gary’s place and strips down to his undershirt and pants. He’s flushed and hot. Miserably hot. He runs the cold water, splashes it over his face. There’s not enough of it. He can’t breathe._

_He finds a small towel, wets it, rubs it over his face and neck, but he can’t clear the image of that dead man and his own guilty hand on the gun. But he had been a Kempeitai officer! And he’d been a hair trigger away from killing Sarah. Frank’s certain that he’d brutalized others in his line of work. Others like Frank, Randall, or anyone else who didn’t look like him - they were all fair game. That’s why he had to die. That’s why Frank had unloaded nine bullets into his body, including five that weren’t even there._

_But does that justify it?_

_Taking a life?_

_He feels like vomiting and traces the towel over his neck one more time before gripping the sides of the sink. His knuckles turn white as the tendons in his hands bulge._

_“Don’t be such a pussy, Frank,” Sarah admonishes. “You did what needed to be done.”_

_She doesn’t even bother to thank him for saving her life because that’s not the point, is it? She stalks away._

“Taking a life to save innocent lives is nothing to feel bad about, Frank,” Gary had told him.

“I know that.”

“Do you?”

Frank looks down at the muck streaming off his shoulders, left over from his adventures with Sarah that night. He still feels so dirty even after the fact. Filthy. They had found themselves on top of a little rivulet that was more muck than water as they basically fucked in the street. He had rolled onto it first, the filthy water slamming into his shoulder as she descended upon his cock, pressing him down, her nails digging into his chest and eventually his shoulders as she rode him like there was no tomorrow.

Frank suspects that for Sarah, there really _is_ no tomorrow. Defiant by nature, she's always seeking that thrill of rebellion moment to moment. 

He'd noticed her watching him extract the picric acid crystals from the undetonated bomb they'd found, a dangerous endeavor even in the best of circumstances. Occasionally she had looked frightened - they all did - yet there was more to it than that. Frank realized that his competence in completing his part of the mission - the most dangerous part - had turned her on immensely. Her momentary smile at learning that she’d be spending time alone with him as they waited to stash the now liquid material per Gary’s instructions hadn’t gone unnoticed. So, like a real crumb, he'd asked her to talk about herself and listened attentively as they sat on the back of the tailgate of the vehicle, knowing that asking her to talk about her history - and the reason behind her subversive nature - would likely get her in the sack. She’d hinted often enough that she wanted to tell him about her past, but he’d always just dismissed her. Until last night. 

After Juliana had left him - so cruelly this time - he couldn't resist seizing upon the first opportunity he got to fuck, no matter how stupid it may be. He didn’t even really like Sarah - she’d made him uncomfortable from the start - but he could tell she’d be game if he played it just right. 

_“You okay?” Gary asks him as he stands over the sink with that wet rag trying to breathe properly._

_“What did you leave me with_ her _for?” Frank asks. He can just see Sarah's eyes rolling. She’s been so frustrated with him._

_“She’s okay, Frank. You can trust her,” Gary replies._

_It’s not about trust. We trust each other as much anyone can - I fucking saved her life, rescued her from that Pon. No, the real problem is, she sees me as less of a man. And I don’t need that kind of flack._

But in the end, he'd shown her. First with his delicate handling of the picric acid - it had taken immense skill not to blow them all sky high - and then afterwards, when he fucked her good and hard. She had been so turned on after his work on the bomb, the second part was easy.

_Sarah's eyes are aglow as they sit together on that tailgate, her smile inviting his first rough kiss._

_He knows that what he wants to do to her isn’t like him, that he shouldn't even_ _be doing this, but his soul is broken - and his body’s still working. So . . ._

_He pulls her onto his lap - or does she jump onto it herself? Then she grinds into him for a while, her hands tangled deep into his hair. But when she disengages and backs away, he doesn’t let her leave._

_“Hey.” What a tease. He goes after her. “Come on.”_

_Franks pulls her to him roughly, giving her less than half a second to protest before his lips crash into hers again and he slams her up against the vehicle. She moans. She fucking moans as she rubs her hands down his body._

_He knows he’s got her now. And he's going to fuck her good._

_He doesn’t even bother to grin with satisfaction._

* * *

_Sarah whips off her bra in seemingly one smooth motion as she backs herself against the rusty coils of a tall column. Her small breasts are perfectly pert and jiggle in just the right way to stoke his desire. Like he even needs the encouragement . . ._

_She holds out her bra – it dangles from a strap on her wrist – and says to him, “Tie me up?”_

_Frank can feel the moment that first shackle had clamped down upon his wrist when he was locked in that cell. Then the sickening sound of the chain that was to become his constant companion slithers in and the sound bites his ears for the first time since he'd been there. The second shackle clamps down even harder._

_He comes back to the present. “No.”_

_“Aw, come on, Frank. Don’t be a wuss,” Sarah pouts at him in a rather disappointed way, still holding her bra out. “You know I can easily escape, right?”_

_Escape. He hadn’t been able to. He’d been chained to that wall for days. Left to their mercy. Unable to flee the Pons that came into his cell to beat him, smack him,_ torture _him whenever the fuck they wanted to. And all the while, no matter how much he tugged on that chain, the shackles pulling against his wrists, he could not escape their violence. He could only endure it._

_And he hadn’t endured it well . . ._

_“No,” he says again with a harsh growl, shoving Sarah against the rusty coils. He figures that must have hurt, but she only grins at him defiantly as if they could be sparring at any moment, reveling in his roughness._

_“Have it your way,” she says, dropping the bra onto the ground without a second thought. “Do your worst.”_

Oh, he had.

For the rest of the evening he hadn’t been able to shake the feeling of those shackles bound to his wrists, dragging him down into the depths of depravity by that horrific chain.

He’d endured it all for absolutely nothing – he had lost everything for absolutely nothing. Fuck Juliana. He hates her with such a blinding fury he can’t even fathom how he ever could have loved her. Traitorous bitch.

He hadn’t even paid attention to Sarah’s moans of pleasure as he finished fucking her against those derelict, rotting coils. He had only been able to hear his own heart weep with pain.

Just thinking about Juliana looking up at that Nazi’s cocky face with admiration and appreciation made him sick. Would her face ever shine upon him with love as she had looked at Frank? Like a flower that needed to be nourished?

No!!! Fuck it. He hopes that Nazi is just as rough with Juliana as he’d been with Sarah. 

That man is the exact opposite of him. Tall, lanky, _Aryan._ He must be a beast in the sack - the polar opposite of Frank’s “kindness” and “generosity." Jules had claimed she loved those traits of his as she’d simultaneously said goodbye to him for the final time. In a letter.

What a fucking liar.

He’d done everything right by her. He’d even saved her from herself. He’d been tender, gentle, loving, kind - he’d helped to put her back together. But in the end, that hadn’t been what she wanted.

If she really wants something different, he hopes she gets it - in spades. 

Sarah had seemed to enjoy Frank’s passionate beastliness last night, but he’s not sure she’d really deserved to be treated that way. Especially not when he'd been utterly selfish to the end . . .


	2. Part Two

Under the spray of the shower, Frank runs his hands over his face and neck before dropping them to his chest and torso to feel all of the places where the Kempeitai’s canes had lashed into him the first time Juliana had left him. The bruises had healed, but he hadn’t. 

_“Next time.”_

_He can't believe Sarah says that to him with a forgiving smile when they are finally finished, once he is totally spent and has nothing left to give. Hadn't she just called him an asshole? He falls into the gutter, unable to even keep his eyes open, a selfish bastard to the end._

_There isn’t going to be a next time._

* * *

Frank stands under the water and lets it wash over him. The degradation. The humiliation.

_“She betrayed all of us Frank. You Lem Karen. Me. She let Joe Blake go with the film,” Gary says._

_“No, I don’t believe you.” Never Juliana. She wouldn’t do that to him._

_“No?” Gary turns to the desk behind him. When he turns back, he's holding a printout with Juliana on it. "This is her. Defecting to the Reich yesterday.”_

_Frank steps closer.  
_

_“She’s in New York by now,” Lem says._

_Frank grabs the paper from Gary and turns away. It can’t be . . ._

_He takes a few steps towards the door and by the time he gets there, he knows he’s been played for a fool. His sister, his niece, and his nephew are all dead because of his hesitation - because he’d felt he owed Juliana something, and all this time she had been with HIM. That NAZI._

_Frank realizes that he’s nothing but a fucking chump, having allowed himself to listen to Ed’s reassurances and misinterpret Juliana’s parting letter. For that’s what it is - a goodbye, a closed door. Somehow, his gut had known that - he'd felt a little sick upon receiving it, even before he’d opened it. Yet his heart had rejected what she'd been trying to tell him as he read it and he'd entertained the notion, however slim, that there would still be a chance for them, that somehow fate might bring them together again and that she wanted that, too. But that's not what she'd been saying.  
_

_Fortunately, Gary and Lem have set him straight. The cold, hard truth is that Juliana had run off to the Reich and given up everything just to be with that Nazi, effectively betraying everything they had ever been to one another. Deep down, he’d known that's what had happened, but he’d been waffling, hanging on to a shred of hope. Just a tiny little sliver . . ._

_He's such a fool._

My feelings for you are and will be more real than anything I’ve ever known. You’ll always be with me, Frank. And I hope I’ll always be with you.

_Bullshit. That’s utter bullshit. He can't believe she'd even taken the time to write that down.  
_

_As he holds the printout that Gary had given him of Juliana on her knees, defecting, the final shard of his repeatedly-splintered heart breaks off and slams to the floor, shattering him violently in its wake._

_He wants to rip up the sheet he holds in his hands, but he finds that he can’t. Their necklace is gone - he’s glad that it’s lost - and he refuses to go back to the place they'd shared, so this is all that’s left of her. One last tangible piece . . . A piece that documents her betrayal. Frank ends up giving it back to Gary - shoving it into his chest, actually. He doesn't want to be the one to destroy it._

Frank feels sick as he stands there in the shower under the water, which grows ever colder. And just like when he had first learned about Juliana's betrayal, he feels the need to throw up. He had held back then, but now he buckles and heaves.

_Chump._

_Loser._

_Cuckold._

But nothing comes up.

Lem and Gary had broken the news to him that the woman he’d loved beyond reason had betrayed them all and Frank just couldn’t defend her actions anymore. He knew they were indefensible. 

Fucking Joe Blake's the most important thing to her now. Not Frank, not the Resistance, but a **Nazi**. And they all knew it.

He’s feels so humiliated that the blush of shame creeps up from his chest to his face just thinking about it. Turning his face towards the spigot, the cool water rains down upon him, yet does nothing to temper it.

_You’re the kindest, most generous man I know._

Not anymore. That man is gone. Frank doesn’t recognize him anymore. The man who had so generously given up his future with Juliana, fuck, his future _period,_ so that she could save that Aryan man’s life is DEAD.

 _Nothing_ about him is kind or generous anymore.


	3. Part Three

PART THREE

 _Frank has Sarah pinned against the vehicle where they’d stashed the explosive material. He can hear the liquid slosh around inside of the cans, keeping time to_ _their rhythm._

_She had been so demanding._

_He’s fucking her just like she’d told him to and she’s trying not to scream with ecstasy, but it’s a losing battle. Domination and resistance. It’s a game they’re playing. Fighting, winning . . . losing . . . just like when he had pinned her down, her face shoved into the ground, finally dominating her. The rebel, the firebrand._

He shakes his head against that memory. He doesn’t want to think about it.

It turns out he and Juliana had also been playing a subtle game of domination and resistance - he just hadn’t been aware of it.

So who is he? Who the FUCK is Frank Frink now?

Is he a man that stands tall with his head up, defiant? One who throws off the shackles that had restrained him, refusing to keep his head down any longer? Is he the man that Sarah sees now that he's given his services to the Resistance?

Or is he nothing but a Jew, cuckolded by a Nazi prick? Or a gaijin, beaten by Nips at seemingly every turn? Or is he just a sad and pathetic little man who had given too much, been too kind, and been betrayed by the woman he had given his heart and soul to? Bitter. Sick. Twisted. FUCKED.

_Sarah has him on the dirty, grimy ground and is riding him hard, even as that rivulet crashes into him and flows over his chest, but Frank doesn’t let her stay astride him for long. He pushes her over and pins her down, slamming his cock into her hard and deep. She presses against his chest with her palms, moaning, but he isn’t going to just let her have her way again and change positions. She’s going to have to earn it. The rivulet of water courses over her body now, below her breasts and trickling over her navel._

_“You’re filthy,” Frank says ever so quietly in his deep voice as she runs her hands over the dirty water._

_“Mmm.” She takes her hands and rubs them all over his chest. They are cold. “So are you.”_

_Then she lifts them to his face._

_“No,” he says firmly, not letting her sully his face as he lifts her to a standing position._

_Sarah eyes a wooden crate seductively. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”_

_A vision of holding her down over that crate and pulling her thick, black ponytail back tightly as he slams into her from behind courses through his mind. What he’s already felt of her hair feels so good . . . he wants more._

_“Yeah.”_

_He grabs her by the waist and kisses her hard, parting her mouth, but not even letting her moan._

_“Fuck,” she says when they break apart._

_“Yes,” Frank says with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He hasn’t smiled in forever. “Let’s.”_

He’s gotten hard just remembering that crate. Oh, fuck. That hadn’t been the first time he’d come that night. And it hadn’t been the last.

He touches himself and finds that he’s still dirty. There’s muck on his chest that had endured despite all the pounding of the water from the shower spigot. It still clings to him.

He thinks about how it really hadn’t been that long since he and Juliana had made love, yet he’d repeatedly climaxed last night - it had seemed to be never ending. He’d never experienced anything quite like it before. 

Perhaps he’d needed something else all this time. Sarah’s different. Very different. Yet the words from Juliana’s letter continue to linger in his mind, a perpetual memory.

_You’re the kindest, most generous man I know._

Those words had utterly haunted him while he’d fucked Sarah last night, fighting to get her into position. He’s not kind. He’s not generous. 

He’d fought against his very nature, refusing to be that man anymore.

_Head down, ass up. He’s finally dominated the rebellious Sarah, has both her hands behind her back._

_“What are you going to do to me, Frank?” Sarah asks, her cheek forced down onto the harsh surface of the street. “Whatever it is, you know I won’t let you do it for long.”_

_Oh yeah? Just watch._

_He slowly and carefully slides his cock into her_ other _hole, groaning all the way._

_“Oh!” She’s startled._

_Truth be told, so is he. This is all so subversive and totally new to him. As is the Resistance. And defiance. AND her. And oh my God it’s all so delicious . . . and dirty._

Frank looks down at the cock he’d rubbed raw last night. It’s as hard as a rock right now - and ready. Yes, he believes he **can** come again - even now. Wow. He can’t believe he’s got more. But he’d done things to Sarah he’d never done before. Selfish things . . .

_Deep inside of her, her hands pulled back tightly, jerking to get free, he’s about ready to lose it. Fuck. This feels so different it’s unbelievable._

_“Hey, you bastard!” Sarah calls up to him. “If you won’t let my hands free, at least touch me.”_

_“Why?” Frank asks._

_“So I can finish too, numb nuts. In this position I can’t exactly do it myself.”_

You’re the kindest, most generous man I know.

_No fucking way._

_Ignoring her request, Frank starts to pulse within her quickly, the head of his cock practically popping in and out, taking himself to the very edge quite rapidly. He squeezes his eyes shut, preparing for more, and groans loudly as he dares to plunge deeper with each thrust. Fuuuck._

_Once he starts to come without her, Sarah says, “You’re such an asshole, Frank.”_

_She’s_ **_so_ ** _fucking frustrated . . ._

_And he doesn’t care. He’s left her hanging this entire time._

_He falls into the gutter, finished. Utterly wrecked, body and soul._

He realizes he should probably clean up and leave his dick alone for a moment. He shouldn’t be getting off on this anyway. It’s degrading.

He sits down in the tub, morose, and pulls his knees to his chest. His erection suddenly gone, his balls flop onto the cold surface. Utterly ashamed of himself, he cries.

* * *

“Hey, buddy?” Frank hears the concerned voice of his friend Ed at the door but doesn’t answer. 

Ed lets himself in and Frank wipes his eyes.

Whatever happened to privacy?

“Are you okay, Frank? I think the water’s run cold by now,” Ed says, hovering near the door like a worried hen. Getting no answer from him, he continues on, "That was that Japanese girl on the phone a minute ago. Sarah.”

“Ugh.”

“Any luck washing her out of your system yet?” Ed asks him jokingly, hopefully.

Frank bows his head and sighs audibly. There’s no simple answer to that question. All he knows is that she’s the last person he ever wants to see again. Regret doesn’t even begin to cover it. 

Ed relays her message to him - it sounds like he needs to go back over to Gary's today. He doesn’t even want to think about that.

“Do you see my razor, Ed?” Frank asks before he leaves. “I still need to shave.” The water is cold on his skin now. Punishing. He deserves it.

“No, we forgot and left it at your’s and Jules’s place remember?”

Him and Jules. What a joke. Thinking about her is punishment enough. He reaches forward to shut off the water. 

“Do you want to borrow _my_ razor?” Ed asks.

Frank’s body is washed clean now, but he’s not necessarily all cleaned up. He runs his hand over the bristly hair on his face. Fuck it. Might as well keep this little badge of dishonor. 

“No, it’s okay.”

“Are _you_ okay, though?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Frank says, wondering if Ed will believe the lie. Probably not.

After Ed closes the bathroom door with a soft click, Frank slides down into the cold basin of the tub and lies on his back, staring at the ceiling for a few moments, slack. Then he squeezes his eyes tight, ashamed that he had taken out all his anger, humiliation, and pain on Sarah’s body. He had never done anything even remotely like that before - he’d never been so selfish in his life. Who the hell has he become? 

_This is what you do, isn’t it? You use people’s suffering to turn them to your lost cause. Well, I am not signing up for any causes._

He’d been so angry at Gary for trying to leverage his pain and shock at Juliana’s betrayal. Lem had even jumped in and brought up Laura and the kids to really drive it home. But he’d signed up alright. Right after he’d killed that man. Because he’d never been the same after that. 

_“Taking a life to save innocent lives is nothing to feel bad about, Frank.”_

_“I know that.”_

_“Do you?”_

_“I didn’t think I actually_ could _kill a man. I can’t say that feels good, even if he was a Pon,” Frank says. “Someone once told me it takes a lot of effort not to be free. I kept my head down for so long, I forgot what it felt like to stand up.”_

_Frank stands up and turns away from the sink._

_“So yeah, I feel better than I have in a long long time.”_

_“Good.”_

Frank knows he’s changed . . . . He’s become a walking ball of rage at the injustice he finds in the world around him - and it’s been building.

Opening his eyes, the cold water still dripping off his body in beads, he finds that he can come to terms with that.

Standing up, Frank decides to leave behind the person he had been - the person Juliana had supposedly loved for his kindness and generosity, the good natured friend Ed has missed, the person who had been happy and content to be a subject of the Empire. 

What is left of him must stand against the Japanese and their tyranny. He knows he must fight. It’s all he’s got left.

Because he’ll be damned if he’s caught dead lying down.

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to TheBearSays for the beta on chapters 2!. :-)


End file.
